"That may be, my dear, but the Colonel is not a Icmale. Quite the reverse, in fact, for being a soldier I've no doubt he holds human life very cheaply."
Later in the day Constable Flinders paid them a visit, and shook his head broodingly. "You ought to have sent for me, sir," he said reproachfully. "It would have been a nice case for me to handle, and there's no denying there's precious little scope in Framley for a man who has ambition."
"Sorry," Charles said. "But I thought you were watching him."
"I can't be everywhere at once, sir, can I? I go and take my eye off him for half a moment, just to make sure that Mr. Titmarsh wasn't getting up to mischief, and I'm blessed if he don't go and hang himself. I suppose the next thing'll be I'll find while I been about my ordinary duties that tiresome old bug-hunter - Mr. Titmarsh, I should say - has gone and done himself in with his own killing-bottle."
"Well, that'll give you a case anyhow," Charles consoled him.
The constable said austerely: "You mustn't get it into your head, sir, that the police want people to go about killing themselves. All I said was, it's a bit hard that when a Framley man commits sooicide them chaps from Manfield get called in before I hear anything about it. Not that I'm blaming you, sir," he added handsomely. "No doubt you done as you see fit, and it isn't everyone who keeps his head on his shoulders when he goes and finds a thing like a corpse."
The inquest, as Charles had predicted, was not particularly interesting to Celia and Margaret, but those outside the family who had not imagined that any other verdict than suicide would be forthcoming, were in a positive buzz of speculation and wonderment.
Charles and Peter recounted all that they had done, both citing as their reason for visiting Duval's cottage his suspicious presence in their grounds on the night before. The inspector was called, and also Dr Puttock, and the inspector then asked for an adjournment, pending further police inquiries. This was granted, and for the time being the case was over.
"And I vote," said Peter, "that we ask old Ackerley in for some tennis this afternoon, and try to get the taste of all this out of our mouths."
They waited for the Colonel outside the court-room, and when he appeared he readily accepted the invitation. "I won't ask questions now," he said, "but I warn you, I'm all agog to hear a bit more. If you don't want to fall into Mrs. Pennythorne's clutches, you'd better get away before she catches you. I saw her making for the door fairly bursting with curiosity."
"Then let's clear out at once," Peter said. "Half-past three suit you, Colonel? We ought to tell you that the court's a terror, and full of docks."
"Be able to blame it then for my bad shots," the Colonel said.
They escaped just as the Vicar's wife emerged from the court-room, and drove back to the Priory in time for a late lunch. The Colonel arrived punctually at half-past three, and proved to be a player of considerable standing.
"What a pity we couldn't have got another man!" Celia said when they repaired to the terrace for tea. "But Dr Roote doesn't look as though he'd be any good, and I can't see Mr. Titmarsh standing up to you, Colonel."
"Give me a mixed double every time," the Colonel said. "Much better fun! But I'm out of practice. When I was in India I used to play a lot. I've rather given up of late years."
"What part of India were you stationed in?" Peter asked. "I've got a cousin who's just had the luck to be sent to Wellington."
"Oh, I've been all over the place," the Colonel answered. "But I didn't come here to talk about India, young man. Out with it! Did you know the police thought it was murder?"
"Now then, sir, you ought to know better than to try and drag information out of us," Charles said. "Of course I need hardly say that the police perceiving at once that we had missed our vocations, entrusted us with all their secrets. In fact, we're considering entering the force on the strength of it."
"Yes, yes, but you needn't be so close," the Colonel said. "What I can't understand is, who in the world should want to murder that French fellow? Seemed harmless enough, I always thought."
"I've got a theory about it," said Charles, helping himself to a cucumber sandwich. "Who knows but what he may have possessed an oleander hawk-moth? We are all aware that Mr. Titmarsh is expending untold energy in his pursuit of this elusive specimen. Very well, then. He found that Duval had one, and so…'
"Really, Chas, I don't think you ought to joke about it," Celia said. "It's not exactly decent."
"Well, why was he in your grounds?" the Colonel asked, not to be put off. "Was that what he came up to see you about Saturday evening? You know, you're being quite maddening, and it's my belief you know a lot more than you pretend."
"Of course I do," said Charles. "Didn't I say so?"
"Oh, I give you up!" the Colonel said hopelessly. "All I can say is, I hope it hasn't given you a distaste for the Priory."
"Not at all," Charles said, demolishing another sandwich. "Why should it?"
"I don't know, but after all the business about the ghost which you spoke of some time ago, I was afraid finding a corpse - must have been a bit of a shock, eh? Glad I didn't stumble on it - might rather put the lid on it."
"A new theory," Peter remarked. "The Priory ghost killed Duval. You'll be making my sister nervous, if you're not careful, sir."
"Well, I wouldn't do that for the world," said the Colonel gallantly, and began at once to talk of something else.
But it seemed as though no conversation could for long steer clear of the problems besetting the owners of ihc Priory. The Colonel's talk led to a description of a round of golf he had played the day before, and since his partner had been Michael Strange it was not surprising that he began to talk about him. "Seems a nice chap," he said. "How do you get on with him?"
"We hardly know him," Celia replied.
"He's played golf with me once or twice," the Colonel said. "Retiring sort of fellow, but I always feel sorry for people taking a holiday by themselves. Dull work, what? What's his job by the way? Haven't liked to ask him outright since he seemed so uncommunicative. Wondered whether, like so many poor fellows since the war, he's had to take up some rotten thing like selling from house to house. Distressing, the number of sahibs who are doing jobs they wouldn't have touched in 1914."
"I'm afraid we can't tell you anything about him," Celia said. "We've really only met him to talk to once, and that was at your party." She looked round. "Will anyone have any more tea? No? Then what about another set?"
The next day passed quietly enough, and was only marred, Charles said, by the prospect of having to go to dinner with the Pennythornes. He spoke bitterly on the subject of people who shirked their clear duty, but his words made not the slightest impression on either Peter or Margaret.
"We shall be with you in spirit," Peter told him, but so far from consoling Charles this assurance provoked him to embark on a denunciation of his brother-in-law's character, which was only stopped by Celia hustling him upstairs to change into his dress clothes.
Peter and Margaret enjoyed a tete-a-tete meal, and sat down afterwards in the library to play piquet together. After three hard-fought rubbers they gave it up, and to Margaret's dismay Peter, instead of retiring as he usually did, into a book, showed a disposition to talk. She had a shrewd idea whither his conversation would lead, and she was not mistaken. In a very short time Peter, busy with the filling of a pipe, tackled her bluntly. "I say, Sis, mind if I ask you a question?"
She minded very much indeed, but she had to say No.
"We've always been pretty frank with each other," Peter said, "or I wouldn't ask. But aren't you a bit more interested in that fellow Strange than you pretend to be?"
Margaret reflected gloomily on the manifold failings of the male sex, and decided that the worst of these was the appallingly blunt questions men asked. "I don't think so," she replied. "I must say I do rather like him. I'm sorry you've got such a down on him. Does he wear the wrong kind of tie?"